


Deceiving Appearances and All That

by orphan_account



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Alternate Universe - Human, M/M, Pining, That's right Crowley owns a café/flower shop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-06-27 07:20:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19785976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: But if the reviews of his shop were to be taken into account, the vast majority of people agreed that The Garden was the best coffee/flower shop in Soho.Save for the few negative reviews, which recently have been about the lack of baked goods.All of the items in Crowley’s bakery were made by Madame Tracy who used to live in the flat above the shop, but she moved away last month after she retired from her other jobs. And Crowley had no taste or talent for sweets, as Adam once so astutely pointed out. So thus, Crowley now ran a bakery-less coffee/flower shop and the rest of the world had to suffer it.





	1. Chapter 1

Contrary to the popular belief held by most of his customers, he did not always listen to Queen and he does, in fact, listen to other bands. Or he did until Adam came to visit the shop last year and changed out all of his records and CDs for “Best of Queen” albums. And he couldn’t just replace them because then that means that Adam would win, which he was not about to let happen.

So the Queen albums stayed and his winning streak was left intact. (1)

It was an odd shop in other regards too. For starters, it was a flower shop. Well, technically it was a coffee shop, but it had better lighting than his apartment, and whenever one of his plants started to fall from his good grace, he would bring it here where it could receive more personal attention, and, eventually, find a new home. It worked out well for him, he could never actually harm a plant, but he had a reputation to uphold; if his plants found out that he didn’t dispose of their imperfect brethren, they’d never be scared of him again. After a while, he started to bring in other plants as well, thus turning his coffee shop into a part-time flower shop.

Then there was the matter of his aesthetic choices. He liked to change it up every so often before whatever was there before would get boring. When he opened it, for example, it had been more-or-less inspired by sixties. (2) And he had gradually remodeled the entire place in the five years he had owned it. Now it had a more open, modern vibe to it, reminiscent of his apartment. Some people found it odd, others found it inspired. He didn’t care either way, it was his place after all.

But if the reviews of his shop were to be taken into account, the vast majority of people agreed that The Garden was the best coffee/flower shop in Soho. 

Save for the few negative reviews, which recently have been about the lack of baked goods. 

All of the items in Crowley’s bakery were made by Madame Tracy who used to live in the flat above the shop, but she moved away last month after she retired from her other jobs. And Crowley had no taste or talent for sweets, as Adam once so astutely pointed out. So thus, Crowley now ran a bakery-less coffee/flower shop and the rest of the world had to suffer it.

* * *

Across the street there used to be a bookstore, Crowley had always assumed that it had done poorly and someone else bought it and turned it into a tattoo parlour.

He was only partly correct. The old bookshop, A. Z. Fell & Co., had done poorly, though that was due to the bookseller’s dislike of actually letting people purchase the books. Though he had never actually sold the building, he simply learned a new trade and rebranded himself without changing too much else. (3)

So on the same street in Soho, there was a shop that was a curious cross between a café and a flower shop, and a tattoo parlour that looked more suited to provide old tomes and quills than any sort of body art and tattoo ink. But isn’t that like life? Deceiving appearances and all that.

The same could be said for the owner himself, Aziraphale was hardly what one would first consider a tattoo artist, with his out-of-date and overly formal sense of fashion and everything about his general demeanour. However, he was quickly earning a name for himself and his new business had already raked in more customers than his last one had in the last two years it had been open.

He was also feeling a bit peckish.

And seeing as he had no appointments booked for the next two hours, he figured now was as good a time as any to try that café across the road. He had been meaning to try it since it had opened some years ago, but he had never found the time. That was the lie he told himself. He so often had plenty of time on his hands, but when he had gone there on its opening day, he quickly recognised a few faces that he knew meant trouble (4) and he had been making up excuses to not go back, but now he decided enough was enough. And so he walked over to the little café/flower shop.

* * *

If the lack of baked goods deterred anyone from coming recently, it certainly didn’t show. In fact, it seemed to be busier than ever, which was a feat seeing how budsy it normally was. Crowley wondered if perhaps he should hire someone else to work here with him so he could take a break. Maybe he would take Anathema up on her offer to lend a hand.

But all thoughts of hiring others slipped from his mind when he heard the bell above the door ring and he saw who entered. 

It was someone new. While he didn’t keep a record of who exactly has come before or not, he knew that he would’ve recognised him in a heartbeat. With his shock of light blonde hair and his period attire, who could forget him?

Suddenly, he was grateful for his ever-present sunglasses, because otherwise he might’ve been caught staring.

“Welcome to The Garden, what can I get you?” Crowley supposed that if he hadn’t said that line thousands of times over the past five years, he might’ve sounded almost overzealous. 

The man stared up at the menu, looking it over for a minute before asking, “yes, do you perchance have a cheese danish?” 

“Uh, sorry, no.” He grinned sheepishly and pointed to the sign near the register that read: “We’re out of baked goods for the time being! Sorry for any inconvenience!” (5)

“Oh, right, well, I suppose just a hot chocolate then.” He handed over a few pounds and Crowley handed him back his change.

“And can I get a name for that?” He was curious to see what his name was.

“Fell.” Fell? Where had he heard that name before? He knew he recognised it - Of course!

“Didn’t you own that old bookshop across the street?” He continued before he let him respond, hoping he could strike up a conversation, “you did! What happened to it?”

The mysterious Mr. Fell was surprised at the sudden conversation, “Oh, I turned it into a tattoo parlour.”

“You what?” He couldn't have, could he? His smile grew. Of course, he knew that what was once an old bookshop was now a tattoo parlour, but he hadn’t known that Fell had never sold it. Bookseller and tattoo artist? He was intrigued. 

“I turned it into a tattoo parlour. I’m afraid I wasn’t cut out to run a bookstore; I’m just far too attached to the books to actually sell them. But I’ve always had a fondness for art, so I decided to become a tattoo artist, and, as they say, the rest is history.” While the rest of that story may have been history, to Crowley this story was just beginning.

He handed Mr. Fell his hot chocolate and watched as he planted himself in a chair near the window, next to the peace lily. The light seemed to make his hair glow as if there was a halo surrounding him. Fitting, Crowley mused, for he certainly seemed to be an angel.

* * *

  1. In addition to running this shop, Crowley had a part-time job as a babysitter. It had started out as a way to earn some quick cash, back when the shop was new and he was down on his luck, but he stuck with it after he started watching one Adam Young (and by extension his friends.) The object of the game is to see how long Adam can prank Crowley for before Crowley cracks. Currently, he and Adam have been at one another with this for the past two and a half years, and Crowley has been winning it for two and a half years. 
  2. This was also back when it had been less café/flower shop more café/bar. However, he decided that most people wouldn’t want to hire someone to watch their kids who also ran a bar, so it changed it to just a café.
  3. The interior still has a few bookshelves, however, they are mostly off-limits as they are overflow from what he can’t fit in his flat above the shop. The exterior also remained the same, save for a name change to “Paradise Lost Tattoo Parlour.”
  4. Also back when The Garden had been half-café half-bar, it had been co-owned by Crowley and his then-friends, Hastur and Ligur. Also attending the opening was their mutual acquaintance, Beelzebub, whom Aziraphale had recognised from a family feud between his and theirs. 
  5. He doesn't actually intend to start selling baked goods again, because the only other people he knew well enough to ask were Anathema and Newt, neither of whom he would consider asking for help in such matters. Newt was near hopeless in a kitchen, and Anathema’s “old family recipes” were repulsive to everyone but her.




	2. Chapter 2

It is commonly accepted that the most powerful force on earth is love, of course, more than a few people contend that the strongest force is hope. Aziraphale strongly agreed with the former. He also took great pride in himself on being able to feel love in its many forms wherever it may be found.

Here, for example, Aziraphale could feel the love coming from the couple holding hands walking outside, from the plants he was sat next to, from the other patrons in the shop, and, especially, from the barista.

When he thought that he wasn’t looking (1), Aziraphale snuck a quick look back at him. He really was quite something. Something that he just couldn’t place. (2)

Aziraphale tested his cocoa to see if it was too hot, and, when he decided it was just perfect, he finished it off within a few sips. That was the mark of any truly good cup of cocoa; he’d have to come back to have it again.

He glanced around looking to see where he was to return his mug since it was not a to-go cup. And debated for a moment if he should just return it to the counter. Logically, it was what he undoubtedly would have to do, but he hesitated. Odd, he thought, he’d never acted this way before.

It took him a minute before he decided to just go up, return the mug, and get it over with.

“Excuse me, do I just leave this here?” He held up the mug a bit.

Crowley, he now noticed the nametag, gingerly reached out and grabbed the mug, “Yes, I’ll take it. Thanks, most people just leave them out.”

“You’re quite welcome. Thank you for the cocoa, I’ll have to come back. Well, I best be off.” He gave a quick nod and walked back to his shop.

Once he got back, he checked his for when his next appointment would be coming in and started getting everything ready. He had about an hour.

Finally, his next customer arrived. 

He liked to let the customer choose the music that played as they were getting their tattoo, as a way to help them keep calm. Often, their tastes never matched Aziraphale’s own, though he didn’t mind terribly; it was for their enjoyment, not his own, after all. 

This time, however, he couldn’t help but take notice. It was the same song that had been playing back at the café. 

On principle, he never paid attention to music that was played aloud as he would rather think more of his drink and the people that surrounded him. But he definitely knew that this was the same song. The same beat and instrumentals. And he could certainly recognise the singer, Freddie Mercury.

_I've fallen in love_

_I've fallen in love for the first time_

_And this time I know it's for real_

_I've fallen in love, yeah_

_God knows, God knows I've fallen in love_

He could feel a slight blush creep its way onto his cheeks. Where was this coming from?

Thankfully, the girl hadn’t wanted a very large tattoo, so he wouldn’t have to spend too much time on it.

Once Aziraphale had (kindly) ushered her out the door after she was finished, he closed the shop for the night and retreated back to his flat above to find a good book to distract himself with.

* * *

Every other Friday, for the past three years, Crowley has been making the drive from London to Tadfield, so he could watch one Adam Young. It would take most people an hour to make that drive; Crowley, however, was not most people and he made it in half that.

He had met the Young family through his friend, Anathema, who sometimes lived in Tadfield when she didn’t live in London with her boyfriend, Newt. Arthur and Deidre loved him, naturally, and he’s been the world’s best babysitter ever since. (3)

Now, though, it was ten pm and Adam had (hopefully) gone to sleep, so he was lounging on the sofa on the main floor talking to Anathema who had popped over after dinner. 

“So you’re telling me you have a crush on him?” Anathema sat on the floor next to him, teasing him as any good friend would in her position.

“I do not!”

“You do!” Said Adam from somewhere behind the sofa where he definitely was not supposed to be.

“Adam, you stay out of this, you were supposed to be in bed half an hour ago.” Crowley tossed one of the throw pillows in Adam’s direction as a playful threat. 

“Yeah, well, I think Dog needed to go out.”

“Dog’s not supposed to sleep in your bed either. You know the rules.”

Adam changed the subject, “so, who do you have a crush on?”

“I don’t have a crush on anyone—” 

“His name’s Mr Fell.” Anathema cut him off, grinning mischievously at Adam.

“Crowley and Fell sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G” Adam began singing as Crowley mouthed “whose side are you on?” to Anathema.

“Adam, you are a horrible child,” he jumped off the sofa over the back and picked the boy up, carrying him upside down by his legs, “I don’t think I want to watch you anymore.”

In between the laughter, Adam managed to get in a few words, “if you leave...then I’ll win...the game.”

And in one grand motion, Crowley set Adam back on the ground, “Satan spawn.” 

“Demon.” Adam retorted, but not without yawning.

He ruffled Adam’s hair, “go back to bed, and I’ll pretend that Dog isn’t up there with you. Go on.”

And once again, it was just Crowley and Anathema.

“That was really sweet, you know that right?”

“Shut up, I’m not sweet.” 

Anathema stood up, “I have to get going, Newt’s going to be home soon after another failed first day. Text me when you finally work up the courage to ask him on a date.” (4)

* * *

There were another few days until Mr Fell ventured back into The Garden (Three days and one hour), not that Crowley had been paying any attention, he hadn’t, he’s just observant. 

Though he would be lying to himself (5) if he said that he wasn’t the slightest bit excited when he saw the overdressed tattoo artist. 

Would it be weird if he greeted him with a “welcome back” or should he just pretend that he was new, or would that be even weirder? He said the same thing to everyone every time, regardless of whether or not they were new though, so he should probably just say what he normally says. But it would be nicer to spice it up maybe…

“Welcome back, would you like another hot chocolate, or do you wanna try something else?” He regretted it the moment it left his mouth. He’d made a huge mistake, he should’ve just stuck to his normal line, there was a reason he had it, after all. 

“Pardon? Oh, right. Yes. No. Yes, one hot chocolate please.” Crowley wished he could go and curl up in his bed and never come back out. “I do have a question though, do you know when you’ll have any bakery items back?”

As he made the hot chocolate, he answered, “honestly? I don’t know. The lady who used to bake everything moved, and I can’t bake to save my life. So until I hire someone new, there won’t be any.” He topped the drink with whipped cream, “one hot chocolate for Mr Fell.”

Crowley couldn’t be certain with the tint from his sunglasses, but he could’ve sworn that Mr Fell blushed. “You may call me Aziraphale if you wish.”

“Aziraphale?” He tested it on his tongue.

“It’s a biblical name,” Aziraphale said tensely. He seemed to sense his question before he even asked it.

“Biblical, right.”

“Of course, you don’t have to call me that if you don’t wish.”

“No, it’s fine. Just a complicated relationship with religion is all. No, it’s, it’s a lovely name. Suits you,” he stuck out a hand, “I’m Crowley.” 

Aziraphale took his hand, “it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Crowley.”

* * *

  


  1. Though it was hard to tell since he was sitting in the man’s direct line of sight, not to mention the sunglasses which made it impossible to tell.
  2. Of course, he could hazard a guess as to a few of the things. More than one of which pertained to the man’s physical appearance.
  3. He may have stretched the truth a little bit when he was introducing himself to the Youngs, but that’s hardly a crime, in Crowley’s opinion. Then again, it wasn’t his fault Mr Young thought he looked like a doctor.
  4. Anathema always just knows whenever something of that sort is going to happen. She maintains that it’s a gift passed down through her family from her (many greats) grandmother.
  5. Crowley often lied to himself, but he hid it under the guise of an “imagination.” 



  



End file.
